


Something I Could Tell

by laceblade



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: AU, Alcohol, M/M, Open Relationships, White House Era (Crooked Media RPF), vague time that is pre-Benghazi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-09 20:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16456925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceblade/pseuds/laceblade
Summary: It was bad enough having Ronan flirt with him while Lovett was right next to him, but now Lovett’s left DC for LA, and Tommy is left with these feelings. And Ronan.





	Something I Could Tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timjan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timjan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [you are not the mind that disturbs me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992328) by [Timjan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timjan/pseuds/Timjan). 



> I'm very grateful to everyone who took a look at this for me; each of you found dropped words, fixed things, and asked good questions to make this better. ty jinjurly, were_duck, Molly, & justlikesomuch! ty to tearsforsourvenirs for being there with this shit from inception through title & cheerleading all the stages in between.

Tommy had been in the Sit Room for three hours and forty-five minutes by the time he got out, and upon returning to his windowless White House office, he ran smack into Ronan Farrow.

“Jesus!” he shouted automatically, still processing who he was running into, while Ronan yelled, “Sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Ah, it’s fine, man, don’t worry about it,” he said, making sure Ronan was stable and then carefully letting go, mindful to keep his fingers from lingering. “How’s it going?” he asked, genuinely excited to see Ronan, even if he looked about as exhausted as Tommy felt.

He wondered what brought Ronan to this part of the building. He didn’t have the security clearance he used to have when he worked under Richard Holbrooke, and even then it wasn’t very high. There was basically no work-related reason for him to be here.

Ronan’s smile was lopsided as he said, “Jonathan suggested that you could use some convincing to relax on a weeknight. I thought we could go grab some drinks.”

Tommy had to force himself to break eye contact with Ronan; the combination of being asked to go for drinks with Ronan while knowing it had been Lovett’s idea was too much. First, that Lovett was thinking about Tommy and his well-being from California; second, that Lovett knew that spending time with Ronan would make Tommy feel better.

Plus, the way that Ronan referred to Lovett as _Jonathan_ had always twisted something inside Tommy. 

Like he found it hot.

Which was ludicrous.

“I didn’t have your number,” Ronan apologized, pulling Tommy out of his thoughts and back to the conversation.

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit, how weird! I guess I always just got a hold of you through Lovett. Well, it’s great to see you, I’m really glad you came by,” he said, offering his phone to Ronan to enter his number. He watched Ronan’s cheeks pink a little bit as he took the time to navigate out of an app before handing his own phone over to Tommy.

 _Probably talking to Lovett,_ Tommy thought, a little uncomfortably. 

“Are you even old enough to buy alcohol?” Tommy joked, thumbs quickly entering his phone number.

“Mmm, I actually am, but I'm still scrawny enough that they card me every time. Maybe I’ll just give you all my cash, make the whole thing easier.”

“Then I just look like some creepy guy plying you with alcohol,” said Tommy, frowning and handing Ronan his phone back.

“Tommy, there is no universe in which you could look creepy,” said Ronan. “You are a Hummel figurine.”

Tommy thought this was a bit rich coming from Ronan Farrow, but decided that his sarcastic _oh, please_ look was enough. He didn’t need to embarrass Ronan by giving voice to his thoughts.

He was pretty sure that all Ronan wanted was to get a drink and catch up. Still, as they walked down the marble hallway chatting, Tommy pulled out his phone and texted Lovett: _Hey, are you still together with Ronan?_ He texted with Lovett often, but Ronan hadn’t come up as a conversation topic lately.

He just wanted to know, he told himself. 

No particular reason.

 

At the bar, Ronan’s order of straight bourbon surprised Tommy.

“Would’ve expected you to order something with sugar in it,” Tommy said, picking up the tap list.

“Now why’s that?” asked Ronan. Tommy’s gaze lingered on Ronan’s cheekbones; dim lighting was unfairly flattering to him.

Although Tommy couldn’t really imagine a lighting scheme that would make Ronan look bad.

“Mmm, guess I think of you as just a kid,” said Tommy, mostly just to be a brat and get a rise out of him. He was still scanning the tap list.

“No, you don’t,” said Ronan in a low voice. He gave Tommy a knowing glance, and then turned his attention back to his drink while he took another sip.

Ronan had called his bluff, and he didn’t have a response ready. He probably would’ve choked on his words anyway; he could feel desire blooming in his stomach. A sense of giddiness was flooding through him, and the next time their eyes met, he couldn’t help but smile.

It had been so much easier to keep himself in check when Lovett was physically present, when he could see the expression of fondness on Lovett’s face when he looked at Ronan, and Tommy could remind himself: _This is not for me._

But Lovett wasn’t there, and Tommy was _fucked_.

“How’s State?” Tommy asked, casting wildly for a safe topic as he accepted his cold beer gratefully from the bartender.

“Mmm. What do people say…’same shit, different pile?’ …That,” said Ronan, taking a sip from his tumbler. Sometimes he really sounded like an observer of the human race, rather than a member. But Tommy was very grateful for his willingness to pedal back to a much less frank conversation, at least for the time being.

“What about you? Like your new gig?”

“Ehh. Different shit, bigger pile?” Tommy said, snorting into his pint glass.

Ronan laughed, charitably, thought Tommy; it wasn’t that good a joke. “More interesting, then?”

“Oh, totally,” Tommy said, happy to talk about his new position. “NSC is fascinating. More exhausting, though, somehow. Seems like that shouldn’t be possible.”

“Nahh, if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you can always be more tired,” said Ronan with a rueful smile.

Tommy acknowledged this with a nod. “What about you? Is your new thing more interesting, at least?”

“Honestly? No; it’s less interesting. But nothing could compare to working for Richard.”

Tommy waited a beat to let that hang in the air, in acknowledgment. Richard Holbrooke could be a prick at times, but working for him must have been fascinating. The administration had really lost someone special when he died, based on personality alone, let alone the policy implications for Afghanistan.

“But when you say it’s the same shit…?” Tommy asked.

“Same roadblocks,” said Ronan, taking another sip of bourbon. “The same awkward silences that drag out in meetings when I ask a pointed question about why we’re working with a certain group, or why we’re overlooking someone’s egregious war crimes to cut a deal.”

Tommy had only ever been in two meetings with Ronan, and he had found Ronan’s frankness refreshing. People in both State and Defense had the annoying habit of constantly alluding to relationships and partnerships as fraught without ever explicitly saying what part of it was fucked up.

Ronan would go _right_ there, regardless of who was in the room. His standing among his peers and superiors mattered less to him than finding the answers to his questions. And his questions weren’t naive, or stupid, either. Ronan always put in the time researching points before raising questions. His habit of reading tertiary papers to prep for meetings was already notorious. Any time someone from his department entered a room with Ronan at his side — a signal that Ronan had prepped them for that particular meeting — it was clear that the meeting was going to be derailed by uncomfortable shit that nobody wanted to talk about.

“That sucks,” Tommy said finally. “But it’s part of what makes you… _you_.” He thought about the conversations that Ronan and Lovett used to have on the couch: Ronan would go after Secretary Clinton, and Lovett would start out defending her until it became clear that he was out of his depth on the details. Ronan was never mean about his superior knowledge, but it seemed like he was constantly begging everyone around him: _Be better. Do more._ His coworkers mostly hated it; it was clearly a huge reason why Lovett was infatuated with him.

“I don’t know, Tommy,” sighed Ronan. “I think maybe I’m just not cut out for government at all. It’s too hard to work within the system, it takes too long to get enough power to make any difference, and by the time you get there, you’re corrupt yourself.”

Tommy frowned, not sure that he agreed. He certainly wouldn’t call Obama corrupt, but it wasn’t a topic he wanted to broach with Ronan just now.

“You think you’re gonna stay?” Ronan asked.

“What, become a lifer? No way,” said Tommy. “I’ve been with the president so long, I don’t think I could work for anyone else. Not this hard. And anyways, I’m not sure I can…take it, for much longer than another year or so. I’m burning out. Favs and my mother keep ganging up on me.”

Ronan seemed to soften, looking at Tommy with a more sweeping assessment than his glances usually carried.

Tommy knew that he was pale and had lost weight. He felt a blush rise up in his cheeks and the sides of his neck under Ronan’s scrutiny, wanting to tell him that he just needed a two-week vacation and he’d be fine. He knew that wasn’t true, though. His nerves were fried, and he really felt like he was losing it, lately. All it was going to take was some minor catastrophe — inevitable, in this job — and he knew his anxiety would make everything even more raw.

“I’m fine!” he said quickly. “Favs and I will figure out an exit plan. I’m not leaving without him. Anyway, I don’t have enough expertise to jump into an agency. And I can’t imagine ever finding another candidate who could make me feel like Obama does. It’s been great, but I just want to try something else.” It was weird to think about; Tommy had worked ceaselessly to get where he was, and sometimes, knowing that he was going to leave it all behind before it ended made him feel like he was being ungrateful.

Tommy took another sip of beer. “What about you, though? You sound… frustrated, unhappy. Is there any part of your job that you do like?” It was clear Ronan didn’t have an immediate alternative; working on his connections and learning as much as he could were his best options right now.

Ronan snorted. “What a question. But it’s even worse, because I think the answer at this point is no. Even the stuff I used to like doesn’t balance out the useless rage I feel sometimes.” He picked up his glass, studying his bourbon before knocking the rest of it back and gesturing to the bartender for the check.

Tommy felt dismayed — they were done already? He didn’t want the evening to be over. Also, who the hell went out to de-stress a buddy on a weeknight and only got _one drink_?

Ronan sighed, drawing Tommy’s attention back to the conversation. “I went to law school, but I hated working at a law firm. I work for the government, and I seem to hate governing. What kind of job works for someone who can’t help asking uncomfortable questions? Where can my awkwardness be most effective?” The last question was clearly meant to be a joke, but the answer seemed readily apparent to Tommy.

“Honestly? Since I started as NSC Spokesman, anybody who’s asking me questions that put me in an awkward spot, the ones who really piss me off? Are usually really good reporters.”

Ronan’s whole body turned toward Tommy, slowly, as he took this into consideration. “Reporter, huh?” He rubbed his neck, and Tommy's attention was drawn to everything adjacent: his elegant cheekbones, his slender fingers. “My writing is terrible, though,” said Ronan.

“So work on it. We can’t all be naturals like Favs and Lovett.” 

Tommy watched Ronan’s face carefully after mentioning Lovett, but he didn’t notice any revealing reaction. Nothing that brought any clarity to their relationship status. Fair enough, he’d only brought Lovett up in the context of writing. Ronan's lack of reaction might not mean anything.

But he really, really wanted to know whether Ronan and Lovett were still together, and Lovett still hadn’t texted him back.

The bartender returned and set the bill down between the two of them. Tommy snatched it before Ronan could react.

“Don’t even—,” he cut Ronan off when he started to protest. “I make more money than you, and I am absolutely buying you this drink. I couldn’t look myself in the mirror in the morning tomorrow if I didn’t.”

“Well, alright,” Ronan said, uncharacteristically meek.

“Anyway,” Tommy said, scrawling a signature that only included two legible letters. “I think you should be a reporter. If you dig up good enough dirt, and you know what the fuck you’re talking about…it won’t even matter how well you write. The reporting will be enough on its own.”

He put the pen down and looked at Ronan. “Seriously. You have a lot of qualities that would make you a great journalist — your intelligence, your tenacity, your automatic suspicion of anyone with power…your willingness to pay attention to people everyone else has written off.”

Ronan was bright red now, looking down at his hands.

People had probably only ever told him that he was smart and left it at that. Well, too bad. Ronan was great for a lot of reasons, and he should know that.

“Anyway, think about it,” he said, swinging off his barstool.

Ronan brushed at his suit coat a few times more than was strictly necessary, clearly still bashful. “Maybe you can be my first source,” he said, looking to shift the focus of the conversation so it wasn’t so squarely on him. “Any classified information you’d care to share, Tooo-mmy?” he asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

Tommy laughed, a little worried about how much his chest burned just hearing his name in Ronan’s drawl. 

“Ahh, they don’t tell me the good stuff,” he said, smiling. 

God, Ronan was beautiful. He was almost unreal. Tommy really wished they weren’t leaving.

Tommy held the door open for Ronan to pass through, and hoped he didn’t look as desperate as he felt.

Ronan glanced at him and Tommy felt pierced by his direct gaze. “Why don’t you come over?” Ronan asked. “The night’s still relatively young, isn’t it?”

Tommy could feel desire licking at the edges of his control, a tangible sense of how badly he wanted Ronan. If he were alone with Ronan, would he be able to control himself? Or would he drag Ronan into cheating on his boyfriend — one of Tommy’s _best friends_ — because he couldn’t keep it in his pants?

Tommy bit his lip, thinking of Lovett. 

“Well?” Ronan spread his hands.

 _He just asked you to come over. He didn’t ask you to fuck._ He reminded himself how genuinely sorry he’d been, thinking that they were done for the night.

Screw it.

“Yeah,” he smiled at Ronan. “Let’s go.”

 

 

Tommy was grateful it was dark outside, because he was still fretting about not having heard back from Lovett and wasn’t sure he could keep the anxiety off his face. He kept his hands in the pockets of his slacks, personal cell phone clenched in one hand so that he wouldn’t miss a text.

As they passed in and out of the soft light of the street lamps, Tommy noted a sphinx-like smile ghosting Ronan’s face.

He scowled. Fucking State, everyone in that department had a fucking poker face.

Was Ronan laughing at him for being able to provoke such desire in the ostensibly-straight Tommy?

About three minutes into their walk, he realized with alarm he might have fucked Ronan over. If Ronan and Lovett _were_ still together, then wouldn’t Ronan get into deep shit for bringing Tommy home with him to hang out? Lovett was obviously going to want to know why Tommy was interested in their status…

Or what if Lovett _did_ know? He thought of the two of them laughing together at Tommy’s reaction to Ronan’s flirting, growing hot. What if Lovett knew and was fine with it? Could that even be possible?

He didn’t see Ronan as the type to go behind a lover’s back, but at the same time, Tommy had put his faith in plenty of people only to ultimately be disappointed.

But he really didn’t want to punish Lovett for having faith in _him_ as a friend, if Ronan was in fact sneaking around. 

If they were even still together.

He hoped that Ronan had good liquor, and maybe a copy of Mario Kart.

 

 

U Street wasn’t far from the bar, and they made it to Ronan’s basement apartment in what felt like seconds.

Tommy took a look around the shadowed entrance while toeing off his shoes.

For some reason, the apartment wasn’t what he expected at all. The homey touches - framed photos of an enormous family, a tasteful rug covering part of the crappy linoleum in front of the kitchen sink - were all precisely chosen. Ronan had to have thrifted most of his furniture and decor, but it was all clean as well as tidy.

“Look at you, you little homemaker,” Tommy teased immediately after stepping through the doorway.

“I guess?” Ronan offered back, both pleased and embarrassed. He fumbled for the light switch in the entryway, which illuminated both the kitchen and the very short hallway leading to what must be the bedroom and bath.

Tommy glanced into the darkened living space, scanning the cheap bookshelves crammed with books, with a single shelf near the TV reserved for video games.

He was amused for some reason, but couldn’t figure out why. Ronan’s apartment felt perfect for a 24-year-old Renaissance man who was a bit of a homebody.

Ronan moved toward the living room, hand reaching to spin the switch on a floor lamp. And even though Tommy had just been hoping for Ronan’s apartment to present the two of them with a multitude of distractions, all he wanted now was to cut through the bullshit.

He wanted Ronan, and he was pretty sure that Ronan wanted him too. And if he couldn’t have him, he should get the hell out.

So he reached forward and caught Ronan’s hand before it reached the lamp.

Ronan froze, and Tommy licked his lips, trying to distract himself from the fact that his fingers on Ronan’s hand felt like they were burning.

“Yes?” Ronan asked, looking like he was ready to smile but not sure it was appropriate just yet.

“I want this… _you_ …a lot,” he said, and it was very pleasant to watch Ronan’s face practically glow. 

“And?” Ronan prompted, voice barely above a whisper. He started rubbing the palm of Tommy’s hand with his thumb, and Tommy had to fence off the part of his brain that was whiting out.

 _Lovett._ The thought was bracing. “I need to know where things stand right now between you and Jon,” he said. He smiled a little thinly, anticipating the imminent end to what up until now had been a very pleasant evening. “I want this, but Lovett’s a good friend. And I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Ronan smiled shyly. “Jonathan and I have an open relationship,” he said. 

Tommy’s heart stopped as he digested this.

“We decided before he left for L.A.,” Ronan said, turning towards him, smiling while Tommy searched his blue eyes in disbelief.

“Even if it’s me?” he asked, wondering what exactly gets discussed when a couple opts to be open to other lovers. He was starting to feel unsure he’s going to be able to stop himself if Ronan’s lips make any contact with his body.

“Even if it’s you,” Ronan murmured, eyes locked on Tommy’s while raising his hand up to his lips, kissing Tommy’s knuckles one by one, each touch of the lips searing Tommy’s skin while desire laced throughout him. “I specifically asked him about you,” Ronan continued. “I wouldn’t have come to your office without talking to him about it first, Tommy.” 

How long had Ronan been planning this? But more importantly… Ronan really was available? His brain was tripping over itself, trying to keep up. Tommy could feel a smile breaking across his face, so he bit his tongue softly to try and contain some of it.

“And he’s really okay with it?” he asked, knowing Lovett’s disinclination towards sharing.

“He’s not really one to play coy when he feels jealous,” said Ronan sardonically, and Tommy barked a laugh before he could stop himself.

Ronan startled a little, so Tommy reached out with his free hand to steady him. “Sorry,” he said, stepping forward, and Ronan grabbed him by the lapels of his suit coat in almost the same moment.

Tommy took another step forward and palmed Ronan’s face firmly, fingers encompassing the side of his neck and thumb pressed on his cheekbone, awestruck by how close they were, by the fact that he was actually touching him. He leaned down and finally pressed his lips against Ronan’s.

Tommy had kissed a lot of women, and a handful of guys. He knew he was pretty good at it, and he knew exactly what he liked. It turned out Ronan was really good, too. It was another area where his attention to detail only served him well.

Ronan inhaled sharply as Tommy moved one of his hands to Ronan’s waist, and Tommy hummed back.

He loved Ronan's soft noises as much as he loved listening to him talk.

Tommy turned him a little bit, angling Ronan towards the closest wall. He was feeling heady, and wanted to make sure they both stayed upright.

Ronan wrapped his arms around Tommy, crossing them by the wrists at the base of Tommy’s neck, fingertips lazily skimming whatever skin they could reach under his shirt collar.

Ronan was very responsive; Tommy felt like he barely had to exert pressure to have Ronan follow his lead. So pliant, so eager. Tommy was incredibly hard, but he wanted to take his time so that he could be as tender as he wanted to be with Ronan.

He squeezed Ronan’s hips while grinding them against his own. Ronan gasped a little into his mouth. Tommy tilted his head so that his lips brushed the side of Ronan’s neck. 

“Okay?” he whispered while sucking at Ronan’s pale skin very gently. 

“Yes,” Ronan said fiercely, grabbing Tommy’s tie with one hand while fingering the tip of his collar with the other. 

Tommy moved his tongue along Ronan's neck, kissing and sucking. He felt a warm thrill each time when Ronan moaned softly in response.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Ronan said breathlessly.

Tommy didn’t want to move. After waiting for so long to be able to touch Ronan, he wanted to keep kissing him, just like this, forever.

But Ronan took his hand and tugged, and Tommy followed him.

In the bedroom, he spun Ronan around to face him and kissed him again, gently cupping his face with his hands.

Somehow, he was still filled with longing, an aching desire for what he already had: Ronan, right in front of him, responding to his touch and wanting Tommy just as much as Tommy wanted him.

He heard a desperate whimpering noise, and it took Tommy a moment to realize it had come from him.

“You can take your time, Tommy,” said Ronan, pulling back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Damn right you’re not,” Tommy said mindlessly, turning his head to kiss Ronan’s ear lobe and watching him shiver.

They made their way to the bed, smiling between filthy kisses, their tongues hinting at what they wanted to do to each other.

They took their shirts off, and Tommy appreciated the view while Ronan pushed him down on the bed, climbing up to straddle him.

“I hear you’ve never had sex with a guy before,” said Ronan, smirking at him.

“Oh, you have, have you? Lovett doesn’t know shit.” Tommy bit out his response before he could dwell on it. Honestly, thinking about Lovett while fooling around with Ronan turned him on even more.

He thought about the two of them talking about him — “Hey, you think Tommy’s ever fucked a guy?” — and it was too much for him to handle coherently.

Ronan raised his eyebrows. “Reaaalllly? These are details that I get to hear before Jonathan?”

“I don’t want to talk about the details of anyone else fucking right now, except for you and me,” Tommy said, caressing Ronan’s left arm with the backs of his fingers. He wasn’t ashamed of his previous lovers, but they were the furthest thing from his mind just then, with Ronan literally on top of him.

“Why do you ask, anyway? You want me to be the one to fuck you?”

Ronan planted his hands on Tommy’s chest, seeming to consider his options.

“No, Mr. Vietor,” he said, leaning down to suckle on one of Tommy’s nipples while he squeezed the other. “I think that _I_ want to be the one fucking _you._ ”

“Oh, well…That’s good, too…” Tommy’s voice trailed off because Ronan was doing something with his tongue that made him crazy. Then Ronan gently bit his nipple.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tommy moaned, and Ronan’s eyelashes fluttered open as he glanced up at him.

“Don’t stop,” Tommy commanded, grabbing the back of Ronan’s head by the hair and pushing him back down.

Ronan attached himself to Tommy’s other nipple, gently palming the one to which he’d just been paying attention.

The stimulation was a lot; Ronan was a lot.

“God, I’ve wanted you for so long,” said Tommy, hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Yeah?” Ronan asked him, spreading his hands across Tommy’s chest again while he sat up. He reached forward, pressing himself against Tommy as he retrieved a condom and a bottle of lube from a drawer in the nightstand.

Tommy kissed the crown of his head because it was convenient and right there, but also because he wanted to kiss every part of Ronan, he wanted to know all of him.

“You’re insatiable,” said Ronan, smiling benevolently above him and then kissed him again, sliding his tongue against Tommy’s.

Tommy let that go on for a little while and then reached down to start fumbling with Ronan’s belt.

“Eager, are we?” asked Ronan, flexing to give Tommy a better angle and inadvertently distracting him from concentrating on the intricacies of Ronan’s pants.

“Umm, yes?” responded Tommy, and they both giggled softly.

Ronan reached down to assist him, and shucked off both his slacks and his boxers.

Tommy looked down, a little awestruck by Ronan. He ducked down to take Ronan into his mouth.

Ronan was perfect, and so was his delighted intake of breath. He was still on his knees, and his fingers threaded through Tommy’s hair, following his bobbing head.

Tommy was just starting to really get into it when Ronan’s fingers tightened in his hair, so he eased off.

“I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” said Ronan.

Tommy shrugged. “Okay,” he said, leaning back to take him into his mouth again.

“I want to come while I'm fucking you,” said Ronan, voice quavering, fingers soft but tight as they held Tommy a certain distance away.

That was almost too much to think about.

Tommy kissed his dick, then the inside of his thigh, then the divot next to his hip, working his way up while Ronan’s breathing grew heavier as he shivered occasionally.

Ronan groped the sheets until he found the condom and the lube.

Tommy rearranged the pillows while Ronan attended to himself, making it so that he could still see Ronan’s face when he leaned back.

And he could see Ronan then, rubbing a palmful of lube on to himself.

Watching it drip, Tommy could feel his eyes start to roll, so he closed them while rolling his hips forward, offering himself more towards Ronan.

Ronan used yet more lube on his fingers. He leaned forward to gently kiss Tommy, and just as he rang his tongue along Tommy’s bottom lip, his finger entered Tommy’s hole, moving in a gentle circle, getting him wet inside. 

Both things happening at the same time felt obscene.

“Fuck,” Tommy breathed into Ronan’s mouth, eyes closed while he concentrated on consciously relaxing.

“You’re so good for me,” Ronan said in a low voice between kisses. 

Tommy shuddered, and reflected that he could probably come just from Ronan continuing to talk to him like that. Then Ronan worked a second finger into him and everything else faded into the background. He felt exposed in the best way.

Ronan moved backwards, still on his knees, and pumped himself a couple times before looking down and then carefully entering Tommy.

Tommy watched Ronan move forward, his own mouth making a perfect “o” while Ronan very gently bucked. He was concentrating, it was clear, but his gaze swept over Tommy’s whole body, watching his reaction to make sure it was okay.

His attention to detail and Tommy’s comfort filled Tommy with fondness.

Ronan pushed in further and leaned down to kiss him filthily, starting a bit of a rhythm.

Tommy laid his head back on the pillow and allowed himself to just feel this, to feel Ronan filling him up.

“Can you…” Tommy started, breaking off their kisses, considering. “Can you fuck me harder?” Tommy asked.

Ronan looked down at him in astonishment, and then smiled broadly as he started moving faster, and deeper. 

Lost in his own headspace, his entire body shuddered with pleasure when Ronan reached down to wrap a lube-slicked hand around Tommy's dick, and started pumping.

Ronan groaned, clearly turned on even more by holding Tommy in addition to everything else that was going on.

“Let’s do this all night,” Tommy panted, “I’m good here, this is just — God —”

He was pretty sure he wasn’t making sense, but he knew it didn’t matter when he caught Ronan grinning at him.

“Watching you lose control is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Tommy,” Ronan said. “I can’t wait to tell Jonathan exactly how you look…”

The ecstasy of imagining Lovett as if he were in the room, _with_ them, watching them, was too much. Tommy came instantly.

His breathing evened out as Ronan kept moving inside him. Tommy smiled when Ronan’s body started to stutter and his head dipped forward.

Tommy raised himself up just a bit to kiss Ronan one more time, hand skimming over his jaw while Ronan very slowly started to pull back.

After that, Tommy closed his eyes, vaguely aware of Ronan doing responsible things like removing and tying off the condom, disappearing into the bathroom for a bit, and coming back with a damp washcloth.

He kissed Tommy’s ribs after wiping them clean.

Tommy felt full. Not just satisfied, but enamored with things like Ronan’s sweetness and thoughtfulness.

He happily scooted over to make room for Ronan when he laid back down in bed, head on a pillow.

Tommy moved to lay his head on Ronan’s chest, feeling Ronan’s arm encircle his back as Tommy idly brushed his fingertips over Ronan’s shoulder, his neck, his jaw.

“You really going to tell Lovett everything we did?” he asked, kissing Ronan's chest lazily.

“I don’t have to,” Ronan said, looking down and kissing Tommy on the crown of his head.

“No,” said Tommy, “I want you to. I think. It’s…”

“Hot?” Ronan supplied, fingers tipping Tommy’s face up towards his own.

“Well, yeah,” Tommy said, shifting up to kiss Ronan on the lips.

 

They fell asleep with their arms around each other.

In the middle of the night, Tommy’s phone started vibrating on the floor, a flurry of message from Lovett confirming, yes, he was still with Ronan, and then, after a few minutes without receiving a response, a single text:

“I hope you had a nice time, even though you’re a pair of unfairly sculpted blond men.”

When Tommy read the text, he smiled before settling back down to curl up against Ronan’s chest.


End file.
